


Sing for the lion and lamb, their hearts are hunting

by Natasi (SwordDraconis113)



Category: Lost Girl
Genre: Angst, F/F, F/M, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-14
Updated: 2014-07-14
Packaged: 2018-02-08 19:34:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,239
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1953501
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SwordDraconis113/pseuds/Natasi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There had been a man, once, not long ago that wrapped his being around her. In a moment of weakness she had slipped away from the fae. For him, for herself, and for another – a child that had bred from them both.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sing for the lion and lamb, their hearts are hunting

**Author's Note:**

> For ilovetheoxfordcomma and leonard-cohen-the-second, I think you wanted fluff...whoops. And OH MY GOD TWO FICS IN A DAY. I THINK I FOUND MY MUSE AGAIN AFTER A WEEK OF QUEER CONFERENCE! Whoo!

Humans were overrated. Their lives; short, insignificant in comparison, barely made them more than pets in status. Cockroaches of the earth, devouring the world and living as if they were the ones who built it, who survived across generations to learn and evolve. Surely dogs didn’t believe that they created the shelter they lived in, the paths they walked; that their evolution, their diversity was something accomplished by their own sheer will. No. Humans saw themselves as God’s creation, rather than the live stock bred for slaughter. 

Perhaps they are God’s creation. If so, then she is an Angel of the Lord, completing God’s will. 

But she’s lived long enough to know the gods were nothing more than the fae ruling in power. God, though a figment of humanity’s creation, came to be from terror, a means to justify their destruction and not a creator for salvation. But who is she to tell that little secret. Half the world knows it already. 

And it was in that half, where the few exceptions existed; genius minds able to adapt and survive where few others could. Lucky breeding, perhaps, but exceptional none the less. 

There had been a man, once, not long ago that wrapped his being around her. In a moment of weakness she had slipped away from the fae. For him, for herself, and for another – a child that had bred from them both. By the time her son could speak and walk, her lover had slipped away to wherever the dead departed. She despised the child for not being him, for being too much like him too and not enough like her. 

Humans were weak, fragile, and she’d forgotten for a moment how easily softened the fae could become, when she sent Lou Anne’s family to death, saving her the life of allowing them to leave of their own free will. 

Then Lauren’s meek form had crept into her line of sight. Not at first, though. At first, Lauren had stood proudly, desperate for her human lover and determined to prove herself to the fae. She’d watched the Ash break her down, so subtly Lauren didn’t see him holding the whip. 

But even on her knees, allowing herself to be petted as a good pet, Lauren was never truly meek. There had always been a bite, something sharp beneath the layers of soft, submission. 

Maybe she could smell it, see that fire growing inside of her with every touch from the succubus. Perhaps it was why she had lead Bo to Nadia, hoping both to twist the knife and allow Lauren to break from her mask. 

She wanted her. Wanted her mind and soul. 

Her body, too, had been something of a desire she thought upon. But it wasn’t until the human doctor offered it to her, that she indulged upon it. Too many years as the Dark Fae puppet, ruling over the small area, did she learn how important choice and consent was. How often she’d had it stripped from herself by those above and seemingly below her. 

Still, she took from Lauren’s body with consent. Took strands of her sanity just to taste the life inside of her. Nothing she’d notice, nor miss. Nothing the succubus hadn’t taken before her. Freely given spirit, perhaps, because Lauren knew what was to follow and for a moment, she wanted to indulge herself in small mercies. 

Regardless, somehow, like the human before her, she found herself being wrapped around her being. Breath against hers, a heart beating so hard it might shatter – but won’t. 

How cruelly she desired, even now, to clutch the heart, to feel it beat for her, by her, against her palm. 

She’d given Lauren something, and Lauren had surprised her, twisting her Fae and turning her human. But still, the anger, though present, faded into amusement. She’d been tricked by a human, not for the first time, in a game she dominated. It’d been years since her attention had been held her strongly that she forgot to care about the fae, to care about rules and obligations. 

Finding herself across from a human, a scientist no less, with a game of chess between them had been fascinating. Her queen had been snatched from the board, her castle shattered. But she was alive and she wanted to play the game until Lauren trembled against her. 

She wanted to feel that tremble, feel her breath plead against her skin. An erratic pulse against her tongue, tasting of salt and skin as she became hers. 

So she’d seduced Lauren again, ripping her own heart free to place it in her hand, however temporary it may be, just to feel that warmth, to feel herself above Lauren dipping down into her soul. Humanity gave her sensation, gave her chemical emotions like nothing before. 

And above her, beside her, inside Lauren; she could find stardust. Though neither her once-lover, nor Lauren eclipsed the other, she found herself unable to compare them, aware that there was more to the game than choosing which she enjoyed more. As a fae she could never have settled wholly still against Lauren’s chest, allow the heart beat against stray fingers as she wondered if the game was worth finishing or if they could abandon the board for something more. 

But as a human, she would never have survived to exist until this point. It was her Fae, forsaken now, that had lead her to survive. 

And survival was everything. 

Still, allowing Lauren’s arms wrapped around her, both of them aware that this, too, shall end, Evony could feel herself settle, able to remember what it felt like to despise the fae and wish so desperately to be human, even if it meant to be weak. Quickly, she was learning, that humans were soft, but not weak, not powerless. 

Their short lives could make them fight. Or it could make them crumble. 

Lauren wanted to make the fae crumble. Had wanted to make her crumble. But now, delicate fingers built her walls and Evony could see the doctor question her self. Pressing lies against a succubus’ lips and coming home to a bed that wasn’t cold. 

Strangely, Evony found the warmth of a body was nothing she craved beyond sustainable hunger. But the few humans that caught her attention, held her like the world may end tomorrow, they were the ones she wanted. Tricked herself into needing. 

Even as she’d felt her humanity begin to seep through, the first time in bed as skilled fingers had entwined with her own, she’d felt something spark. Not a match against flimsy cardboard, but an ignition: heat and friction engulfing her soul with _her_. 

Without speaking, Lauren had known. Always known that desire inside her. Perhaps she’d allowed her mask to slip too loose in sleep. 

But she had woke and found a hand slipped over her waist, against her chest to pull her closer so that she may feel the soft breath of a human doctor exhaling against her skin. 

The world may end tomorrow, but in the early morning, before dawn had broke against the bedroom glass and stone, she allowed herself to settle, to become a secret pressed against Lauren’s skin in the shadows, when no one else knew her heart had begun to beat. 

Humanity was overrated. The few exceptions are outliers worth waiting for. Even if death is the inevitable end for her survival. 


End file.
